


Nothing New

by batterwitchofhope



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Misunderstandings, No Angst, Pining, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski are Roommates, Scott is adorable, Secret Santa, Stiles is clueless, Weddings, and stiles needs to bring a date to the wedding, lydia and allison are getting married, lydia and stiles are step siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batterwitchofhope/pseuds/batterwitchofhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I caught feelings, Lyds. I think I love Scott. And it’s bad.”</p>
<p>Lydia just stares at him, and then she laughs. "Stiles, sweetheart, that's not news. Everybody knows that."</p>
<p>"...What?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing New

“I’m serious, Stiles. Anyone would be better than nothing.”

Stiles groans, leaning back off the edge of his bed, rolling his eyes as the blood rushes to his head. He yells in the general vicinity of his phone, sitting in the middle of his bed on speakerphone.

“Dad, no. There are plenty of perfectly normal and happy single people in the world. Don’t they know that? I’m sure they’ll be reasonable.”

“Stiles, you remember your cousin Anna’s wedding last year, right? Is “reasonable” really the word you’d use to describe that?”

Stiles actively, physically cringes at the memory. It hadn’t been him, thank god, but his cousin Seth had gotten roasted to hell and back by a handful of very loud Polish relatives half-drunk on champagne for not bringing a date to the wedding, because apparently being twenty-two and still single is an act of religious sacrilege, or something. Stiles is only twenty one, but in all honesty, his dad is probably right. He really doesn’t want to be the target of the roasting this time- last year was savage. It was brutal. Stiles snapchatted most of it to Scotty and got a lot of crying laughing emojis in exchange.

“Fine, fine, okay. I’ll find someone, you’re right.” He sits back up, hauling himself up onto his bed, flopping down on it and staring up at the ceiling. “Tell Natalie hi from me, yeah?” 

His dad chuckles over the phone, and Stiles can hear the smile in his voice. “I will, for sure. Listen, I’ve gotta go now, Parrish is knocking on my office’s door, someone’s probably being incompetent again. But you make sure you find someone, yeah? I mean, hell, bring Scott if you want, it’d be better than nothing.”

Stiles laughs, cracking his knuckles, fidgety force of habit. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll find someone, jeez, relax. Go do your job.”

“Okay, kiddo. I’ll see you soon. Remember to take your adderall.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes, making a loud noise of protest. “Daaaad, oh my god. Quit stalling, I’ll see you on Tuesday. Love you.”

His dad laughs. “Love you too, kiddo.” 

***

“Dude, you’re kidding.” Scott smirks at him from across the table at Panda Express.

Stiles rolls his eyes, stabbing another piece of orange chicken on a plastic fork sort of aggressively. “No, Scotty, I’m not kidding. Dad’s family is fucking brutal, okay. You remember the roast of 2014.”

Scott laughs, nodding a little. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. But seriously, me? You think your weird Polish relatives are gonna be cool with you bringing a guy as your date?” 

Stiles laughs, raising an eyebrow. “Dude, it’s a lesbian wedding. I’m gonna assume they’re pretty down with that if they decided to come. Besides, you’re already going and we were planning on sharing a room anyways, it’s not like it’ll require any huge major changes besides like, maybe holding hands in public or something, and you’re always trying to do that anyways, so.”

Scott grins, finishing his own rice and leaning over to steal a bite of Stiles’. “Good point. Okay, I’m in. Can I trust you to not make it weird?”

Stiles laughs again, finishing his food and taking a moment to throw the empty container into the student union trash can about six feet away. Scott high fives him. “Yeah, I won’t make it weird. I’m gonna change the subject real quick though and just say upfront that I have absolutely no idea what we’re getting them.”

They both stand up, grabbing their phones and wallets, heading back to their dorm. “Well, I mean, do they have a registry?”

“Shit, dude, that’s a good idea, I didn’t think to check.” 

By the time they get back to their dorm, the sun is setting, and they’re both laughing and joking around, and he keeps trying to steal Scott’s snapback, and they’re hip checking each other, and Scott keeps trying to jump on his back and make Stiles give him piggyback rides, and Stiles is actually sorta optimistic. 

***

“Dude, quit yawning.”

“I can’t!” Stiles grumbles, yawning again, fussing with the cuffs of his dress shirt like a pissed off toddler. “I stayed up really late last night packing and getting their gift.”

Scott raises an eyebrow, smiling a little, mocking Stiles’ weak defense without even needing to say a word. 

Stiles tries to stop the embarrassed little smile that’s tugging at his lips, but he ends up grinning anyways, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, fine, bad excuse, I should have packed earlier. Are you happy now?”

Scott laughs, reaching over and taking Stiles’ bag for him, offering to carry both. Damn werewolf strength. Stiles isn’t complaining, though, his arm was starting to hurt, and he’s pretty sure the Denver airport is the worst thing he’s ever seen, especially at nine am.

“Dude, how fucking big is this airport?” he murmurs, reaching into his pocket to check his phone for the time. It’s a tight layover between flights, and he’s looking forward to taking a nap on the flight from Denver to New York City. Once they get to the hotel, they’re basically just going to have to drop their bags off in the room and head straight to the rehearsal dinner. He’s excited, though, neither of them have seen Lydia or Allison since thanksgiving break, not to mention everyone else that’s going to be at the wedding- Isaac, Kira, Malia, Liam, the whole pack. 

“I dunno, but you’re right, it’s a lot of walking. What did you end up getting off their registry?” Scott asks, spotting their gate up ahead and pointing it out.

“This one really nice purple bedspread thing that I’m guessing Lydia put on there, with a quilt and everything. I was getting a distinctly Lydia vibe from it, I’m guessing Allison’s part of the registry was probably closer to the set of grade-a kitchen knives. But I made sure to choose rush shipping, so it should get to their house in two or three days.”

Scott laughs, dropping both bags down at the gate and leaning up against the wall, waiting for their flight to start boarding. It shouldn’t be much longer before they call for boarding, and thanks to a text from Lydia a few days ago reminding him to check in for his flight as early as possible, they’re in the A group. 

Speaking of texts from Lydia. His phone buzzes, and he fishes it out of his pocket, unlocking it to read the message. She’s asking him if they’re going to be able to catch their second flight, and if he found a date. He replies quickly, telling her that yes, they’re going to catch their flight, and yes, he’s bringing Scott. The next message is the one that gets him.

LM: Scott? Seriously? 

He makes a face at his phone, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground next to Scott, typing out a reply.

SS: yes, scott. whats wrong with scotty?

LM: Nothing, I just didn’t expect today to be the day you finally got your head out of your ass. Congrats, I’m happy for you.

Stiles frowns.

SS: what?

LM: Stiles. You’re bringing Scott. As your date. You are dating Scott. You finally got it together and asked him out, I’m assuming. 

SS: what? no, hes like my fake date. were not actually dating or anything he just agreed to come with me to get dads side of the family to leave me alone, were not like a thing or anything

LM: Uh-huh, sure he did.

SS: lyds wtf are you talking about

SS: like im telling you hes my fake date

LM: I believe you, Stiles. I’m a little disappointed, but I believe you. 

SS: why would you be disappointed why tf is everyone so convinced were a thing?

LM: Oh my god. 

LM: Listen, Stiles, I would stay and talk you through this, but Allie needs me, so I’m gonna go. 

LM: Tell Scott I say hi.

SS: ew okay fine go have sex or whatever

SS: i’ll see you tonight

LM: Gross, no, not like that. She wants makeup advice for dinner tonight, but thanks for the assumption.

SS: oh ok sorry my bad

LM: I’ll still see you tonight, though. Fly safe, and good luck. 

He texts her a little heart emoji, and then their flight is boarding and Scott is nudging Stiles’ shoulder with his knee, and he scrambles to get his phone back in his pocket and grab his bags, more confused than ever.

What the hell is going on?

***

Scott’s hand is uncomfortably warm, but that’s not really news, he’s always been a space heater. Considering how many times Scott just grabs his hand and holds it when they’re walking across campus, or when they’re sitting next to each other in class, or when he’s leading him through a crowd, Stiles should probably be used to it by now. Scott is a pretty physically affectionate guy, and he’d asked before if Stiles was okay with platonic hand holding, and of course he’d said yes, because it’s Scott, it’s not like it’s weird or anything. They’ve been best friends since they were fucking four years old and Stiles had peed on Scott’s sandcastle. Barriers practically don’t even exist anymore, and if anyone thinks that the fact that he cuddles with his best bro sometimes is weird, they can shut the hell up, in Stiles’ opinion.

He should be used to it. 

So why does this feel so weird? 

Stiles can feel his own palms getting slightly clammy, and he’s an anxious, jittery ball of nerves. He’s not sure if it’s related to a long day of plane travel, the fact that he’s about to meet a lot of people that he hasn’t seen in months or even years, or the fact that what he’s experiencing right now is how Scott would treat someone he’s in love with. 

This weird little feeling in his stomach tells him that it’s probably the latter.

Before he realizes what’s happening, Scott’s let go of his hand and is steering him off to the left side of the hallway gently with a hand on his back, and Stiles turns around, confused, meeting Scott’s brown eyes.

“Dude, where are we going?”

Scott sighs, giving him a soft little smile. “Stiles, relax. I’m just checking in with you before we walk in there. I can smell how anxious you are, y’know. Are you okay?”

Stiles scoffs, waving his hands in a weird dismissive motion, trying to walk back towards the ballroom where the rehearsal dinner is being held, but Scott catches him by the wrist gently, eyes warm. 

“That’s not an answer, dude.” 

Stiles sighs. Scott’s right, he is weirdly nervous, and he owes him an explanation at least.

“Yeah, Scotty, I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m all jittery, but I’m okay, I promise. Let’s go in there and break a leg, yeah?” 

Scott laughs, slipping his hand back into Stiles’ gently, leading the way. “Okay, Stiles. Or should I be calling you babe?” 

Stiles laughs, rolling his eyes and flipping Scott off as subtly as he can, before they enter the formal occasion and he loses the opportunity to do so. “You call me babe already, weirdo.”

All of a sudden, Scott’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, and Stiles can’t bother to hold back the weird grin spreading across his face, instead choosing to hipcheck Scott as they walk in to greet friends and family.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

***

“I think dinner definitely went well,” Scott says, wandering out of the bathroom in nothing but boxers with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, his voice muffled by foam. Stiles looks up from his phone, having opted for the first shower, now laying in bed in a t shirt and a pair of pajama pants as he waits for Scott to get ready for bed. 

“I think so too, I didn’t get roasted by my relatives or anything and everyone seemed happy to see us, so.”

Scott nods, walking back into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out, returning a moment later and flipping the lights off, getting into bed next to Stiles. 

Their room was supposed to have two beds.

The irony of the mix up isn’t lost on Stiles in the slightest. Whatever, it’s not like he cares. He gets cold at night, Scott is a human electric blanket, Scott’s a cuddly motherfucker, Stiles doesn’t exactly mind. 

“Think everyone’s buying it?” Scott asks, scooting a little closer, trying to get comfortable, and Stiles decides fuck it, moves closer, and Scott just instinctively wraps his arms around Stiles, taking on the role of big spoon, keeping a respectful distance between their hips. 

Stiles closes his eyes, getting comfortable, nodding slightly. “I think so? One of my aunts looked a little suspicious, and Lyds and Allie know we’re not actually dating. The rest of the pack seemed vaguely suspicious, but I think we’re good.”

Scott laughs a little, pulling the blankets up over them. “Okay, good. We didn’t even have to kiss to sell it, that’s impressive.”

Stiles laughs in return, immediately horrified by the next thing that slips out of his mouth. “I mean, it’s not like kissing would hurt.”

Fuck. Oh no. He tenses in Scott’s arms, but almost immediately, he feels the familiar sensation of all of his pain fading away, and he knows that if he checked under the sheets, Scott’s veins would be running black. 

“Stiles?” he asks softly, voice warm, and Stiles can fucking hear the smile in his tone.

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep.”

***

If the rehearsal dinner was a success, the next day is even better. Stiles had woken up before Scott, practically overheating in his arms, but he laid there for nearly twenty minutes before he got up, just basking in the warmth, not wanting to move and disturb Scott’s sleep. 

(That was totally the reason, he tells himself. It wasn’t because you liked being in his arms, or the way the light was falling across his face. Nah.)

Eventually, though, he checked the time on his clock, and nudged Scott awake. They had taken turns showering, gotten dressed, and met Allison and Lydia in the hotel’s cafe for a very early breakfast. It was nice, Stiles thought, to just hang out together, no pressure in that moment for him and Scott to play house. The two of them had teased Allison and Lydia about their relationship, taken some time to catch up, wished them good luck and best wishes with the wedding that evening. It’s been four years now since the Sheriff and Lydia’s mom had gotten hitched, and it’s still weird for Stiles to think of Lydia as his sister. Step sister, whatever. If anything, it had just made their friendship even stronger, and given them more license to tease each other about anything and everything, which Lydia chooses to take full advantage of today, needling Stiles about literally anything related to Scott, Allison backing her up and egging her on. Scott just laughs, taking the whole thing in stride, patting Stiles’ back when he faceplants into the table and groans under his breath melodramatically for Lyds to please shut up and leave him alone.

Not too long after, Lydia whisks Allison away to go get ready, and Scott and Stiles are given a few hours to themselves. They end up wandering around the hotel and exploring the surrounding block or so of city, taking ridiculous selfies together, grabbing burritos for lunch before they head back to their own room to get ready for the ceremony. Allison and Lydia had chosen to do away with the concept of bridesmaids or groomsmen entirely, so when they’re dressed in something better than jeans and henleys, Scott and Stiles are free to find seats near the front of the ballroom. 

Scott puts his hand in Stiles’, and he feels his ribcage do something funny. Stiles’ gives his hand a soft squeeze, and Scott rewards him with a smile, crooked jaw and all, dimples showing. 

It almost feels real. 

They sit that way, together, quiet and comfortable, as the rest of the guests file in, filling the enormous ballroom that the girls had rented. 

The wedding is perfect. Lydia and Allison had chosen a color scheme of soft pink, silver, peach, and navy, and it is beautiful. He scans the crowd, spots Melissa standing at the back of the room, having flown in that morning, making it just in time. He waves her over, and she takes the seat to the other side of Scott, looks at the two of them holding hands, and Stiles lets his heart play with the idea of it being real. 

What if it was real; they were real? What if he could put that look on Melissa’s face truthfully, make her look like everything she ever wanted for Scott had just come true. Bring that gorgeous, melted chocolate drowning depth to Scott’s brown eyes. Wake up in his warm arms every morning, not because of a rooming mix-up, but instead by a constellation of their own careful choices, purposeful in their affection. He lets himself feel it. 

And god, if it isn’t good.

***

As Stiles watches Chris walking Allison down the aisle, he feels Scott gripping his hand just a little tighter, and he glances over and sees the look on Scott’s face. There is no trace of jealousy, there is no sadness or regret, there is just fierce pride and love. It’s infectious. Stiles watches Chris tear up, scrub the back of one hand across his eyes roughly to brush the tears away, and Allison just turns to him, and smiles, and hugs him. She looks absolutely ethereal. Stiles feels like his heart is going to burst with excess affection.

Scott taps the side of his foot against Stiles’, and he looks over sharply, just in time for Scotty to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. Stiles can feel his face heating up, and he grumbles something like “knock it off” under his breath, and Scott laughs, asks quietly if he really means that.

Stiles says no, of fucking course he says no, what else is there to say? 

Scotty’s arm is around his shoulders within ten seconds, and it feels right. 

Stiles watches his dad walk Lydia down the aisle, and she is every inch as breathtaking as Allison. They hug briefly, he kisses her forehead and she laughs, waves him off gently, turns to look at Allison, and there’s history in that look, and trust, and compromise, and most of all, love. It resonates, strikes something in Stiles’ mind and echoes.

He forces down the thought that rises in his mind before it can even fully form.

***

Stiles is not sure how much of the trembling is from the champagne and how much of it is from the revelations, but he’s sitting next to Lydia, at a table with the rest of the pack. Scott is across the room talking to Melissa and Chris, and Stiles nudges Lydia, heart in his throat. 

She turns away from Allie to look at him, one ginger eyebrow arched. “Hm?”

He sighs, cutting up his steak just a little too aggressively, whispering. “Lydia, I need your help. I fucked up.”

She turns and excuses herself gently from her conversation with Allison, turning to face him, champagne flute in one hand. “Okay. Explain.”

He runs a hand through his hair, an anxious habit, and sighs again, feeling his chest churning with nervous energy. “I caught feelings. I think I love Scott. And it’s bad.”

Lydia just stares at him for a moment.

He snaps at her, exasperated. “What?”

She laughs. Quietly, and a little grimly, but she laughs. “Stiles, that’s not news. That’s never been news.”

He frowns, confused. “What? What are you talking about?”

She smiles at him gently, sets a hand on his shoulder. “Stiles, everybody knows that. Subtlety is not your strong suit, sweetheart.”

Fuck. He feels the air catching in his lungs, and his thoughts start to race, and Lydia’s shushing him, turning his head, trying to get him to look at her. 

“Hey, hey, calm down, Stiles, breathe. Deep breath.” 

He struggles to comply and feels the tension draining from his spine, and he looks over to see Liam’s hand on his arm, black crawling up his veins. He smiles a little in gratitude, and Liam mouths “No problem, dude” before turning back to his own food and conversation. Stiles shifts his focus back onto Lydia, and she continues, voice soft, speaking slowly, choosing her words carefully.

“Stiles, I knew that. Most people know that, I think. You and Scott, well. That’s never been new, okay? I was waiting for you to know.”

Stiles closes his eyes. “You fucked up” would be an understatement. 

When he opens them again, Scott is walking towards their table, trademark heartstopping smile on his face, hand raised to wave at Stiles. Lydia returns the wave for him, nudging his shoulder gently with her own. 

“Go on, sweetheart. Talk to him.” 

***

“Stiles, stop pacing.”

Stiles turns to face Scott. They’re in the hallway outside the ballroom, and Stiles is pacing, he’s been pacing since Scott dragged him out here, asked him to explain, and Stiles stalled for as long as he could and then it all just came tumbling out.

“No, Scott, I can’t stop pacing, I just told you I’m in love with you, and I don’t know how I didn’t see that before, and I promised not to make it weird, and I-”

“Stiles.”

This time, there’s an underlying note of calm and absolute certainty in Scott’s voice that makes Stiles shut up, look at him, stand still. 

And the look on Scott’s face might be the most lovestruck Stiles has seen him in quite some time. 

“That’s not news, Stiles.” There’s a little smirk on his lips, and Stiles can’t stop focusing on it. 

“What do you mean, that’s not news?”

“I mean that it’s nothing new, Stiles. I know. I’ve known for a while. I’m pretty sure everybody knows.”

There go my chances of keeping my lifelong best friend, Stiles thinks, but he’s cut off again by Scott’s voice.

"You didn’t know about me?”

“What?”

“Dude, you’re seriously telling me you had no idea?”

“Scott, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Stiles, I’ve had a thing for you since like fifth grade. You’ve been in love with me since sixth. It’s practically common knowledge.” 

“...What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Scott just looks at him, face as open and honest as it’s ever been. “Dude, you’re you. You’re my best friend. Having you in any capacity was enough, I didn’t need to push for more.”

Stiles just gawks at him, speechless for a moment as he struggles to find something to say. “Fucking hell, Scotty, can you stop being prince charming for maybe two seconds? Let a guy breathe, damn. I’m still processing this.”

Scott laughs, and Stiles wants to shove him, but then Scott is hugging him, and it’s okay. “Sorry, no can do, I have a reputation to uphold. But seriously, Stiles, oh my god. You’re really just now figuring this out?”

“Dude, stop teasing me about it,” Stiles says, but he’s smiling in spite of himself, hugging Scott back before he steps away a little, meeting the other boy’s eyes. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious, Stiles. I lied about that girl in summer camp in eighth grade. You were my first kiss in ninth, at that one party Lydia threw, when we got dared. It’s just you, it’s always been yo-”

Stiles kisses him. 

***

Stiles is not sure how much of the trembling is from the champagne and how much of it is from being this lovestruck, but he’s grinning so hard his face hurts, and Scott’s hands are on his waist. His own arms are around Scott’s neck, and they’re dancing, and this time, it’s real. Scott’s bronze skin looks beautiful in this light, and they just keep kissing, chaste little affirmations that this, whatever this is, is real, is happening, is okay. Stiles is so pissed at his past self for being so friggin’ oblivious, because Scott is the biggest flirt he’s ever met, and having that turned on him is just as intoxicating as the champagne. 

But that can wait, because right now, Scott is singing to him, and Lydia keeps taking photos of them together, and Stiles is trying his best to flip her off in every single one of them, when he’s not too busy laughing, or kissing Scott, or just staring at him, because fuck, he’s beautiful. 

(So far, he’s succeeded maybe once. Scotty’s distracting, okay?) 

“You made a wish at 11:11,  
I held your hips at 12:34.  
There was a kiss just waiting to happen,  
A cab was calling, outside the door.  
I knew from the beginning.  
It was you from the beginning.”

There are at least fifteen pictures of him and Scott making out on Lydia’s Insta the next morning, and Stiles can’t even bring himself to care, because there are strong arms around him when he blearily checks his phone, still half asleep. Scott pulls him close, back into the warmth of their bed, kisses his cheek.

“I’m yours, and that’s it, forever.”

“Love you too, dweeb.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this! this was written for skittlestrash, i really really hope you like it! 
> 
> the song Scott's singing at the end is 11:11 by Arkells, and just for fun, here are Allie and Lydia's wedding dresses. 
> 
> Allison: https://41.media.tumblr.com/7b65ff7cde774bdf94452a4626b62b5d/tumblr_ng9vuohN8e1qg2ligo5_540.jpg
> 
> Lydia: https://41.media.tumblr.com/82896a04b709220298e5daaa5918764c/tumblr_ng9vuohN8e1qg2ligo1_540.jpg


End file.
